PLEB: Pizza Roman


Street food is big business. According to The Food People the are 2.5k+ social mentions of it each month across the web, and an Amazon search shows over 5,738 books (mine found much more) relating to street food. From gourmet mac & cheese, falafel and dosa, to handmade burgers, pulled pork and tacos street food is a winner, sure to pull in the crowds.

There are already a couple of established operators serving street food pizza across the UK – Pizza Pilgrims, Fundi and Well Kneaded to name a few – but there’s a new kid on the block, PLEB: Pizza Roman, who is sure to give them all a run for their money.

Launching in Lewes this Saturday, 22 June, PLEB is the new venture from Restaurant magazine’s Joe Lutrario and school friend Jake Fitch, an architect and expert on the Roman pizza scene. The Lewes school friends will be serving up thin, Roman-style pizzas from their home town’s market most Saturdays from 12-4 ish.

Made from dough fermented for 48 hours, the pizzas are hand stretched, rolled thinner than most pizzas you’re able to get in the UK, before being baked in an attractive wood burning oven at 400 degrees for around a minute.

The duo will offer a frequently changing selection of toppings inspired by seasonal, local produce and featuring meats and cheeses imported from Italy. During a taster session we were treated to asparagus with asparagus and walnut pesto, mushroom & truffle oil and pizza bianca with courgette, tomato and garlic. Prices start from a reasonable £3.50 and peak at £4.50.

Check them out and get stuck in. You won’t be disappointed.




Brighton Artists’ Open Houses


Each weekend throughout May Brighton’s painters, photographers, sculptures and printers throw open their doors for Artists’ Open Houses – a month long celebration of creativity showcased from living rooms all over the city.

For many, the thought of knocking on a stranger’s door and wandering their house is an odd one. But once you’ve crossed that first threshold, I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. From screen printed furniture, framed photography and architecture-inspired sketches to bronze busts, leather bags and full sized oil paintings there’s a lot to choose from. And all for free.

UK Contemporary Open House was a particular highlight with large, expressive paintings, stencil art and photography as well as works from Cassette Lord, the graffiti artists who spray’s they city’s junction boxes with his now iconic cassette art.

Nigel French & Guests (photography, screen prints and woodwork), 21A Brunswick Square (photography, illustration and graphic art) and London House in Ditchling (modern oil paintings), are also really worth a look.

And for the hungry among you, the food can be as much a highlight as the art. Anita and Sarala’s pop up cafe was pulling in the punters at Art and Indian Tapas on Worcester Villas in Hove, while coffee and cake took centre stage at The House of Solomon Gray, served from artistically decorated mugs in the small, sunny garden. Photos & Furnishings, on Queen’s Garden, has offered a particularly spectacular array of foody treats over the past three weekends such as pancakes, scotch eggs, rum infused Eccles cakes, orange & ginger biscuits and mini toad in the hole. Phew!

Ending next weekend, there’s still a chance to check it out. Pick up a guide from a cafe or shop in town or download the guide:

CanTina Brighton


Supper clubs, the underground eating houses replicating the paladares of Cuba and Prohibition speakeasies of 1950s America, have easily captured the UK’s imagination. From mussels & prosecco to art-themed dining and bourgeoisie burgers the choices are endless.

But with the big corporates jumping on the bandwagon, and pop ups, supper clubs and underground eating houses now being diluted with manufactured, marketing-led concepts and entrepreneurs willing to cash in on their popularity they’re becoming less real, more gimmicky and not quite as pocket friendly.

To me, a good supper club is no different from a good restaurant. It should serve fresh, local, seasonal produce, come recommended and be more about the substance than the style. Though a little doesn’t hurt. So when I met Tina, AKA CanTina Brighton, at a foody event over a year ago and heard her speak passionately about Brighton’s produce, I knew I had to try her food.

Hosted in the long, slim dining rooms of her Regency apartment in Brighton, CanTina’s supper club is an informal, sociable affair.

Welcomed by a complimentary cocktail – strong, sweet rum and spicy ginger in our case – guests have time to chat, before a bell rings to signal the start of dinner. Time for guests to take their seats at the elegant, chintzy table, laid with vintage crockery, mismatched cutlery and antique glasses.

An amuse bouche of ‘mini cuppa soup’ (roasted tomato with coconut sambal) whet our appetites and got the chatter between 18 or so relative strangers going. A well travelled father mixed with a moustached hipster and local pharmacist, all bonding over a shared love of food and interest in people.

Next up was a smoked aubergine croquette with babaganush and a pomegranate dressing. Then a local line caught mackerel, which was a conversation starter and a half – bringing back memories of fishing trips from Brighton Marina and strangely, far flung Bosnian cold remedy involving soaking socks in vinegar (the mackerel was served on a bed on beetroot salad, with leeks and walnuts).

Any hopes CanTina had about keeping leftovers of the slow roasted Plantation pig were dashed as the table rapidly polished it off, not forgetting the dill pilaf with saffron aioli and seasonal leaves.

The rose and yoghurt creams, served with rhubarb and ginger compote, cardamom shortbread and pistachio praline were almost as popular, with just enough room left to squeeze in a chocolate orange petit four and a snifter of dessert wine.

Highly recommended, but get in there quick. Evenings book up well ahead of time.

The world’s best worst restaurant

The last few weeks have seen quite a flurry of best restaurant lists. From the Godfather, Restaurant magazine’s World’s 50 Best, to spin offs from Jay Rayner (The 20 Best Restaurants), The Telegraph (The Best Restaurants in the World), and Stylist (The Restaurant Hotlist 2013). Everyone seems to have been compiling a list.

And everyone seems to have an opinion. ‘Best’ lists are subjective, after all . And ‘best’ really depend on what you want from a restaurant: to flash your cash; be seen in the latest ‘it’ place; eat the culinary delights rustled up by your chef hero; grab a quick bite on the go; or simply to get a good feed.

Worst, however is a little more set in stone. No one wants a tepid dinner, soup slopped on their lap or to be made to feel that dining at the establishment is an inconvenience for the staff.

Which got me thinking about the worst restaurants I’ve discovered on my travels.

A raclette restaurant in Paris, where sizzling oil was dribbled on us at the table as we chomped through tough meat and over salted cheese. Eugh. The cold, fast food-style broccoli smothered in gloopy garlic sauce in Beijing which was pretty much was inedible. And a fixed price pizza restaurant in Venice, where we were cajoled into ordering extortionate wine and numerous extras, which was nothing short of dire (not to mention a rip off).

But one topped them all. Introducing El Galecon in Casilda, Cuba – the world’s best worst restaurant…

We were playing the yes game. Taking recommendations from locals and seeing where it got us. Beautiful roof terraces, dining on freshly caught fish in a granny’s farmhouse and a rather interesting Swedish-Cuban restaurant had lulled us into a false sense of security.

As our taxi bumped down the dirt track to what can only be described as a shanty town we should have known our luck had run out. And when we pulled up at a deserted pirate themed restaurant with a chef brandishing a cutlass from beneath his frilly shirt, we should have run away.

But we stayed. Forcing down overly fishy fish broth, attempting to chew over cooked (possibly) pork and recoiling in horror at the pound of cheese melted onto a fish fillet. All the time swatting away flies and plotting our escape past the pirate at the door.

Course after course of extras, tasters from the chef and, strangely, a few regulars kept coming. Dragging the meal out.

A few trips to the toilet, to dispose of the fish, and a handbag full of pork fillet later we made our escape. But not until the bill had been proudly presented to us in a miniature, mock treasure chest.

Never again.


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